Harley Quinn and the May Queen's Dress
by Jan Q
Summary: Harley Quinn just wanted to get it over with and get back to Gotham City. She had an overdue rendezvous with destiny. Destiny being in the form of a dish of pink clotted cream and a knockoff Laura Ashley floral print dress. Femslash


It was a dark and stormy night, where all you want in the world is a bowl of your mother's muzak ball soup. Harley Quinn had just finished a job up the coast for Mr J.

An associate money manager of Mr J's had found religion and suddenly Mr J.'s money wasn't no good no more. The worm, Ira Sorkin had been the money man for the rackets; Ira laundered money for the likes of Mr J and Harvey "Two Face" Dent. Ira was however not considered good enough for Oswald "The Penguin" Cobblepot. Cobblepot (that little snob) entrusted his money to the same man as Selina "Catwoman" Kyle and the other blue bloods on the East Side – Steve Madoff.

Inexplicably Ira Sorkin had suddenly found the shawshank redemption and was now threatening to make some embarrassing disclosures about Mr J's deductions to the tax people. Mr J might be a psychopath with a fetish for purple suits and bad green dye jobs but he wasn't stupid - crazy definitely - but he wasn't stupid. Mr J knew that even Al Capone went down with his books and and seeing that his own books were full of crayon he was damme sure that he wasn't going to let Ira Sorkin trade him to the Feds like some ace of spades. He was after all the wild card Joker in the deck. So he shouted "HARLEEEEYYYYYYYY" and that was how Harley Quinn and the boys ended up taking a moonlight boat ride with Mr Sorkin. Giggles thought it was romantic, he would too. Harley just wanted to get it over with and get back to Gotham City. She had an overdue rendezvous with destiny. Destiny being in the form of a dish of pink clotted cream and a knockoff Laura Ashley floral print dress.

Harley hated money men – the bankers, the accountants, the hedge fund managers – they were all talk - money for nothing and the Mercedes for free - and at this Ira Sorkin had been the absolute limit. It had taken them 2 weeks to track him down to this God forsaken one cannery town in the Sardine belt where the Feds had stash him under their witness protection program (courtesy of Wayne Fisheries) and Mr J had blamed the delay on her - Harley Quinn - the Clown Princess of Crime. His protégé.

Harley Quinn loved Mr J, she worshipped the ground he walked on, he was like the Pope / John Travolta/ Santa Claus/ Optimums Prime all rolled into one - only better. But Mr J was a perfectionist. He didn't understand delays. And he had taken it out on her and the hired help. The black eye wasn't so bad, it would heal so would the couple of bruised ribs, Harley could understand Mr J being upset and all, the delay was kinda her fault. She was expected to do better than that. As Bongo said at least he didn't stick anyone in the ribs like the last time so one could be happy for small mercies.

After Sorkin went corkin with the fishes, Harley and the boys split up. It was agreed that Bongo and the rest would call the job in to Mr J by breaking into the cannery and dumping a truck load of their finest sardines into the mayor's office before tipping off the tabloid press. That was standard operating procedure with Mr J. He didn't want to hear that you did well on the fucking mobile. He wanted to read about it in the papers - and the only papers worth reading according to the bible of Mr J were the sort that showcased headlines screaming "I HAD ELVIS'S LOVE CHILD AGAIN" (notwithstanding the obvious that the King was undead and preoccupied with fighting the alien invasion in Omaha, even Harley Quinn knew that). That made sense to Harley - plenty sense - She was crazy - not stupid right - Mr J didn't want his current whereabouts tracked on the mobile network (courtesy of Wayne Telecommunications). Batman didn't carry a mobile - he has the bat signal - and either does Mr J.

Harley took the Lexus with the dark tinted windows (courtesy of Wayne Motors) and got out of town like a Bat on wheels. The boys took the SUV and headed in the opposite direction up to the cannery. The first thing she did before she hit the highway was to crash the woman's room in some nowhere gas station (all lit up like it had just jumped out of an Edward Hopper) and got herself changed out of the Halloween getup.

The Gotham general public seem to think that costumed super villain types like Harley Quinn found dressing up for Halloween all year around a thrill. Well maybe Bats and Mr J did - with Mr J it was always a lifestyle choice. But Harley found that it always attracted the wrong sort of attention at the wrong time. And the last thing she needed now was some eagle eye motor cop spotting her doing 160 mph in a school zone and deciding to call it in - Like I said - Harley was crazy not stupid. And right now all she wanted to do was to get back to Gotham City, ditch the car with one of Mr J's special workshops, take that special box out of the boot (the one containing the knockoff Laura Ashley floral print dress). Walk one block south, half a block west, one block north and shake it all around - like I said - Mr J's standard operating procedure - before hopping a yellow top into the Village where a certain redhead goddess was currently residing.

Harley Quinn paid the driver extra for his troubles and stepped out onto the curb with that special box safely tucked under her arm. The weather in Gotham City was bad this time of year - wet with a sky full of lightning – Harley knew the Bat must be pissing himself with happiness. He was such a sicko.

She knew most people would have problems reconciling the dizzy blonde henchwench who draped herself all over Mr J - "Puddin" she called him - with Dr Harleen Quinzell last of Arkham Asylum better know as Dr. Jerry's House-o-fun- but she didn't. Harley knew Mr J kept her around because she made him look good. She could mentally picture him now checking out his favorite suit (the purple one) in the funny house mirror he always kept in the hideout for that express purpose, slowly looking up to catch her eye in the mad winkle of his before rasping in his weedy tenor "Harley. It's Showtime".

She and Mr J were a class act and the paparazzi loved it - they lapped it all up like mother's milk and fought over the leftovers. The Bat had his boy(s) and Mr J had her - his girl. It was the ego trip one-upmanship thing between Mr J and Batman - everyone in Gotham knew that. There was nothing personal going on between her and Mr J. It was a professional relationship and Mr J was nothing but very very very professional. In Harley's books, anyone who thought otherwise was just plain sick.

He was the only one who didn't give a dame (dame get it – dame) when it became apparent that she was seeing Pamela "Poison Ivy" Isley on a purely personal basis. All he said on the matter was "People will say you're in love." and laughed his head off like someone had just told him that his mother-in-law had just been eaten live by a tutu wearing circus bear. Mr J was a man who understood guilty pleasures, not that he didn't care at all what sort of company she was keeping, mind you. He did have Bongo give her the 2 cent talk on how although they were a progressive, equal opportunity employer (she was after all the first costumed henchwench in Gotham on a permanent retainer, the Bat had the boy(s) and seeing that they didn't stick around too long, she ought to count herself lucky) they did have a policy prohibiting anyone demonstrating a propensity or intent to engage in homosexual acts because it would create an unacceptable risk to the high standards of morale, good order and discipline and unit cohesion that are the essence of blah blah blah. Don't ask, don't tell.

Despite all that Bongo was one of the good guys. He never treated her different after that, like it was something he said as a matter of routine to all the newly made (wo)man in the business. He was also the guy who managed to arrange it so Harley was finally back in Gotham City (abit 2 weeks late) with a special box safely tucked under her arm.

Harley Quinn first met Pamela Isley a couple years back in her rookie year when she was just starting out with Mr J. Harley was asked to sit in on a business meeting Mr J was having with one of his suppliers - problems with the purity of the acid which was the base component of Mr J's very own personal HaHaHa happy gas. Harley had just gotten herself comfortable with a sharp pencil when Pamela walked in, and Harley promptly snapped that pencil into two.

Pamela Isley was gorgeous, drop dead beautiful with long flowing red hair all the way down her back, movie star looks that could launch a thousand squad cars and legs that kept on going and going and going like the energizer bunny. She was the pinup girl for the Gotham police special task force for the criminally insane (Roxy Rocket eat your heart out). She was a walking Ursula Andrews wet dream made real. She was also quite toxic.

Mr J of course eventually delegated the QC problem to Bongo to resolve, Pamela was murdering his new purple green silk carpet with her acid secretions and the Boys were making a mess of the hideout tripping over themselves trying to serve her tea while under the influence of her pheromone discharges. Mr J hated mess. Harley was then much too new then to be entrusted with dealing with someone of Pamela's stature and toxicity.

It was not until a few months later after Harley had messed up big with the bang bang gun and Mr J kicked her out in a rare fit of anger that she had an opportunity to make the formal acquaintance of Ms Poison Ivy.

They met at the museum (courtesy of the Wayne Trust). Harley helped her out a tight spot and they kinda hit it off big time. At first it was professional, Harley helping Pamela out with the business like she use to do for Mr J. Not to say it was the same, Mr J was after all the man to work for in Gotham, but Harley was out on a lam and work was work. It was just kina different working for Pamela; first off you had to have your shots, they hurt like nothing on earth (and Harley was someone who always pride herself on her high pain threshold); then as Harley was to learn real fast, Pamela was a living breathing biochemical disaster zone. She made Alice from them Resident Evil movies look like some half cooked wannabe high school science teacher. Ivy's body chemistry was all screwed up; if she was upset she was as liable to breathe out mustard gas and off a room full of people as spit out a mouthful of sulfuric acid in your face.

It was only much much later when they had both ended up in Arkham courtesy of that stone butch Renee Montoya that Harley found out from Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) that Pamela had started life out as a botanist working under a guy named Woodrue. Woodrue was one of the many independent contractors like Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) that the spooks had recruited in University campuses across the nation to work on projects of national importance. Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) didn't have the dirty on what Woodrue did to Pamela Isley, only that she was his personal lab rat and in the end he killed her and dumped her naked body in some forested area off a building site for a housing development. Only she didn't really die, or rather Pamela Isley died and something else calling itself Poison Ivy crawled its way out of the shallow grave. Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) made it sound so Stephen King, it made Harley's skin crawl. But for some funny reason - much like a punch line for a joke long forgotten - Harley didn't think Pamela was that big a the monster they all made her out to be, sure she was an arrogant bitch with a wicked tongue and sure she could do some nasty things to your soft tissues if she wanted - but Pamela was surprisingly tender and attentive around her especially when they were alone together in her old lair over at Green Meadows (those were the days before Pamela got in big in urban redevelopment and taking the war to the streets, now her lairs were located in the most chic and up and coming neighborhoods full of green pockets and classy vegan restaurants).

Personally Harley found Pamela to be a surprising well read, intelligent not to mention sexy woman who was very confident in mixed company. She could see why Pamela was at the top of her game and she worked her way up the hard way - no old boys' club for her - She wasn't like that NightWing fellow. She was an eco-terrorist of global importance. She made her contribution, EVEN Mr J admitted that.

They would spend the days at Green Meadows talking about many things – of widespread ecological degradation (now Pamela was a woman who understood her Carson) –of shoes (Jimmy Choo of course) - and ships - and sealing-wax - of cabbages - and kings – and how it was with Harley and Mr J.

Pamela didn't like him much, Harley had thought then it was some sort of professional jealousy with Mr J being topman in Gotham and all and Pamela having a chronic case of misandry (which was ironic given that she was forever enslaving them with that kiss of hers, you would think that a smart girl like Pam Isley would at least avoid kissing something she despised like week old muzak ball soup), but that was back then early days before Harley understood much of anything about Pamela Isley.

What happened next was a colossal mistake in the making. Harley had made a personal phone call to Mr J's hotline to check if all was forgiven, she wanted to come back to work for him, much as she liked Pamela she was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of their working relationship. They worked well together, very well (so much so that they made the Gotham headlines together as "Gotham's Queens of Crime"), but maybe just a little too well. Pamela Isley was beginning to make Harley Quinn uncomfortable. She was no longer Pamela or even Ivy to Harley. She was "Red". That little nickname started out innocently enough. Harley and Pamela were discussing Tennyson (now Pamela was a woman who understood her Tennyson), when it suddenly occurred to Harley that the perfect name for Pamela was "Red" (and it wasn't because of her hair colour either that's an urban myth). Pamela had cotton on early quoting back the canto to Harley ("…Tho'_ Nature, red in tooth and claw_ …With_ ravine, shriek'd against his creed..)_ Then they had a good laugh like the were BFFs and after that Harley Quinn started calling Pamela "Poison Ivy" Isley - "Red".

Now the only person Harley Quinn loved was Mr J, which was the given but why was it, all she could think about day in day out was this Pamela Isley. It was "Red" this and "Red" that. It wasn't like Harley swung that way. Harley didn't swing any way. Harley was a one man woman and that man was Mr J. Only now things weren't so clear and Harley thought it would be best if she and Pam started putting some distance between each other.

In the end Harley Quinn really didn't have to worry about distance because Mr J came down onto them at Green Meadows like a Bat out of hell. Harley had never seen him so pissed. Harley had compromised his personal safety, the safety of his business operations and worse of all, she had made him look bad in the eyes of the paparazzi. What happened next was a matter of public record. Mr J tried to spray Poison Ivy with his Joker's Venom (it didn't even scratch her, it just made her laugh plenty thou). She busted Mr J's balls, took out the Boys, grabbed a now very confused Harley Quinn, bounded her into the car and sped off smack right into a road block manned by that stone butch Renee Montoya. Bats brought Mr J in later.

The problem with the Laura Ashley floral print dress started after that in Arkham.

It was 2 weeks later in Arkham during therapy with Dr Joan Leland that Harley asked about "Red". Harley knew that Pamela Isley was kept in the high security containment unit located in the basement of Arkham (courtesy of Wayne Chemical Industries), but she hadn't seen her for common room (and even Victor "Mr Freeze" Fries the only other inmate kept in the basement had common room). Leland asked all the usual 20 questions about the how, the what and the why Harley was asking about Pamela Isley. Harley went along and was rewarded with a nugget of information. They were still decontaminating Pamela.

It was Prof. Tetch (that wonderful man) who filled in the blanks for Harley - they were giving her the Weir Mitchell treatment. "I'm sure you must be familiar with Charlotte Perkins Gilman, she wrote _The Yellow Wallpaper. _Ivy's condition makes her both dangerous to handle and immune to whatever anti-psychotic medication they can prescribe, so the only thing they can do to modify her behavior is to isolate her and slowly break her down. After a month or so of doing nothing but count the cracks in the walls, she would be more than happy to do what they want for a book or an hour in the common room."

But this time round things weren't going as they intended, the word from Edward "The Riddler" Nigma , who heard it from Waylon "Killer Croc" Jones was that Victor Fries had complained about all the screaming that was coming from Pamela's containment unit down the hall. Pamela was fighting her decontamination – it the past 2 weeks she had taken out at least 5 men in bubble suits – it was like she didn't want them to put her back into her clean cell. That had never happened before, the other times she had been hauled into Arkham by the Bat, she had just sighed and duly allowed them to spray her down with the pink chemical foam bath and scrubbed her skin off. The other word this time from Scarface, who beat it out of Arnold "The Ventriloquist" Wesker, who understood from Basil "Clayface" Karlo was that Pamela Isley wanted a trade. She wanted to see Harleen "Harley Quinn" Quinzell; and she wanted to see her now, at which point Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) wanted to know if Harley had accidentally left the tap running in Isley's lair, "You know how it is with her" he injected sagely.

The next day Harley Quinn asked Joan Leland if it was possible for her to see Pamela Isley too.

The "Red" that Harley saw in the pokey modified meeting room down on the Arkham clean floor (the one with the embedded electronic sensors monitoring everything in the air and the two way mirrors) was a ghost of a shell. The lack of sunlight and fresh air not to mention the intense boredom was killing her. Dead eyes, dead skin, dead voice.

Harley felt a hard lump lodge itself in the back of her throat. They had taken her wild beautiful "Red" and pruned her back into this confused wild eyed girl. But despite everything all "Red" had to say was "I'm sorry Harley about the other day. They say it's ok for me to hold your hand - that is if you want to." And that was the moment Harley Quinn fell hook line and sinker for Pamela "Red" Isley. Harley Quinn was a sucker for acid rain.

Love is a strange thing – Waylon Jones could attest to it – he shacked up for a while with Mary "Baby Doll" Dahl in a love nest in the sewers (what that man wouldn't do for a couple of Boston chickens). In return for her continued cooperation, Pamela would get to see Harley Quinn for an hour each day same time, same place. You could say that their first real date was holding hands across the table from each other with a room full of doctors, technicians and whatnots screwheads next door looking on, making notes, checking data dots collected by their sensors and recording devices (courtesy of Wayne Scientific Research) every second.

"Red" didn't say much. She didn't say anything at all. She just looked at Harley with those beautiful sad eyes of hers and cradled her hand like it was a lifeline out of Hell. Harley didn't want any of this. She wanted a real first date, she wanted to dress Pam in a Laura Ashley floral print dress and take her someplace nice like Robinson Park, where there was a lot of sun and space and read Walter Whitman to her. She didn't want them to be reduced to some scientific curiosity. Prof. Crane (that brilliant man) offered his support but they won't able to resolve the Catch 22 the situation had degraded into. Refuse to cooperate in the media circus and risk breaking Pamela's heart ("You know she is doing all this to see you, who in their right mind would consent to being treated like the monkey exhibit at the Gotham zoo"), continue to cooperate and Harley Quinn risked breaking her own heart ("You know you are doing all this to try to make her happy, but it really isn't what you want. It cheapens everything really.") The solution however was presented rather crudely to Harley Quinn by Scarface ("Yo Pansy Face clown Girl, why haven't you kissed that broad yet? Don't you know there's big money riding on this one!!!!!!") To which Harley said "Crom".

The next day when Harley Quinn saw Pamela Isley in that pokey modified meeting room down on the Arkham clean floor, she jumped the table, took the woman she loved into her arms and finally kissed her catalyzing a massive biothermo chemical reaction that is still spoken in hush whispers in certain circles of Wayne Scientific Research. Harley Quinn and Pamela Isley fried every piece of equipment they had hooked up in the room and then some more (Wayne Scientific Research lost 5 super computers, 2 of which was borrowed courtesy of Wayne Business Machines) resulting in a complete shut down of Arkham's power grid. It took the Bat and his army of rent-a-cops (courtesy of Wayne Security) 3 days to put down the riots in Arkham.

Harley Quinn was to learn later that the big winner for the pool that fateful day was none other than Mr Freeze face himself - Victor Fries (that man understood love). Harley spent the rest of her stay in Arkham in the containment cell next to Pamela's without common room. It was only made bearable by Prof. Tetch (that wonderful man) who arranged for a sun lamp and a rather odd choice of reading materials - he just loved being helpful. Harley Quinn read Proust all that summer to Pamela Isley. Walt Whitman had to wait.

From that rather rocky start, Harley and Pam soon got their lives back on track. Mr J was nice enough to give Harley Quinn her old job back on account of old times (He couldn't find his lucky socks, the Boys lacked a woman's touch when it came to housekeeping and Giggles came down with the chicken pox). Pamela went back to working on her notes for new formulas for the mutation of plant growth regulators (she had an idea for disposing of unwanted persons, Harley thought the idea would sit better if it was the disposal of unwanted plastic bottles and bags. Wayne Environment would be really interested in an organic application for that. Pamela didn't think so). It was just that Harley Quinn never got that Laura Ashley floral print dress out of her system.

It wasn't like she could just walk into a department store and buy "Red" a dress (you see the real reason Pamela Isley walked around spring, summer, autumn and winter in the skimpiest of clothing was that it kept melting off her). And Harley couldn't afford to get the dress done by Edna Mode - not retail anyway - not with the retainer Mr J was paying her. Not right now or anything in the immediate or near future.

It was Bongo that arranged it in the end - Harley had step up to the plate with Mr J and taken it like a (wo)man over the Ira Sorkin corkin business - Mr J had pop her twice in the face and smashed a chair into her ribs - and then smashed another chair in her ribs and pop her twice in the face - Mr J liked to make sure he covered all the bases. There were a few bruised and battered clowns all round but no one was mangled beyond hope. Anyway Bongo knew about that Laura Ashley floral print dress that harley wanted and it so happened that Charlie's cousin Gloria's husband's sister-in-law's neighbor's best friend on his mother's side knew the bar man at the Iceberg Lounge.

So that was how Harley Quinn found herself in Gotham City with an chemical resistant knockoff Laura Ashley floral print dress (purchased with a staff discount courtesy of the Iceberg Lounge) tucked in a special box safely under her arm.

"Red" was happily spending "me time" sunning herself naked under a sun lamp in the loft when Harley Quinn was let in by the rosebush. Her smile grew a whole lot wider when she spied who it was that Rosie had dragged into her presence.

"Whaaachaaa you reading, Red?" Harley drawled, reaching for the thin paperback Pamela held in those beautiful hands of hers. "Leaves of Grass. Mmmmmm.....Bongo and the clowns made the evening news.......What is that under your arm?"

Harley smiled back and went to look for the cream, there was more than enough time tomorrow or the next day for Robinson Park.


End file.
